Distractions
by holmesandthehedgehog23
Summary: I suck at summaries. Johnlock PWP so far - will probably lead to more. Rated M for later chapters. Lemon. Slight angst/romance. First fic - be gentle. R&R - thanks!
1. Chapter 1

John's phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat in the back of the dark cab, muttering to himself. The driver threw him worried glances in the rear view mirror, but focused only on his own frustration, John ignored it. He sighed and pulled his phone roughly from his pocket, reading the message quickly;  
'John, I'm bored. SH'  
"Oh, for goodness sake." John tapped out a quick message and sent it back;  
'Put the bloody kettle on, then. The date finished pretty early and I'm on the way home, thanks to you and your bloody boredom. John Watson'  
He rubbed his eyes as another text pinged through – not a minute after his reply.  
'You told me to let you know what I was getting up to, John, you have only yourself to blame. Why did you even go on the date anyway? You obviously weren't interested. SH'  
John let out an exasperated sigh, earning him another glare from the taxi driver. He punched in his reply and pressed the send button.  
'Sherlock, I wanted to know if you were burning the bloody flat down. It wasn't an invitation to text me every 10 minutes, you know. And what do you mean I wasn't interested? Of course I was bloody interested. Sarah's a lovely girl.'  
Muttering, he flung his phone across the back seat, leaving it to rest on the other chair.  
"Of course I was interested. Why would I have bloody gone on the date if I wasn't... And stop signing every bloody text, you_ moron_." He sighed to himself, exasperated.  
The reply came within seconds, but John ignored it, instead choosing to watch as the street lights flickered across the dark window. On the second, ping, though, he gave up and picked it up again, frustrated with himself.  
'Apologies. I'm sure you were hugely interested, John, considering her name was Mary. SH'  
'Tea's done. SH'  
John flung his phone back to the other side of the seat, catching the eye of the taxi driver in the mirror.  
"Sorry," he sighed, resting his hand in his hands as they made their way through London.


	2. Chapter 2

John made his way slowly up the stairs, locking the door behind him.  
"Is that you, John?" He heard shuffling feet and the lower apartment door unlocking. Mrs Hudson poked her head out of the gap, her face breaking into a smile as she saw him halfway up the stairs.  
"Go and sort him out for me, would you, love? He's been shouting all night. I've got neighbours, you know." She said sternly.  
John sighed for the hundredth time and smiled at Mrs Hudson, tiredly.  
"I'll sort him. Sorry you've been on your own with him. Night, Mrs Hudson." He yawned, carrying on up to 221B Baker Street. The door was ajar, and as he pushed it fully open, he was surprised to see Sherlock standing quietly at the window, fully dressed and sipping tea. Sherlock turned as John entered the room and gestured to the armchair, next to which sat a small table, holding a steaming cup of tea. John smiled gratefully as he dropped down into the chair and took a sip of tea. The room was silent for a moment.  
"So," Sherlock turned, his eyes twinkling. "How was the delightful _Sarah_?" He strode quickly across the room, jumped onto his chair and perched on the back, feet resting on the seat. His tea lay forgotten on the window sill.  
"Oh, shut up." John placed his own tea to one side and rubbed his eyes as Sherlock smirked.  
"I was simply suggesting that maybe you weren't as interested in the delightful young woman as you may have had me believe. I mean, really John, forgetting her name _is_ rather a bad idea, don't you think?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, surveying John slowly.  
"Ah," he muttered, standing up and walking once more to the window.  
John watched him through narrowed eyes. "What do you mean, 'ah'?"  
Sherlock said nothing, simply continued to stare out of the window. John sighed again and stood from his chair.  
"Right. Well, I'll be off to bed." He muttered, glaring at Sherlock.  
"I simply meant, John, that I understand now why you went on the date." Sherlock said quietly, facing John once more. He sauntered back across the room, swaying his hips slightly as he looked John up and down.  
John found himself unable to tear his eyes from those hips, but with effort, managed to look up at Sherlock, the glare once more in place.  
"It was rather obvious that you weren't at all interested in the girl. I mean, why would you be? Your description sounded awfully dull – a primary school teacher, lives alone with her cats, works in a library at the weekend. Please,' he guffawed. "But, your clothes told me what I needed to know. You've dressed to impress, of course, but not in your usual way. In fact, you're wearing only the one layer – no buttons, just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Easy removal?" He raised an eyebrow, that irritating smirk still plastered on his face as he walked around John, drinking him in. John heard a small 'oh!' as Sherlock stepped behind him.  
"John Watson, you're not wearing any underwear, are you?" John blushed as he thought about exactly how Sherlock had figured this out. He spun round defiantly.  
"Are you quite finished, Sherlock? Would you care to tell me why you're trying to deduce me tonight? Are you _really_ that bored?" John stopped as he saw the look on Sherlock's face – a slight flush, dilated pupils. Sherlock cleared his throat and smirked once more.  
"You were looking for sex, tonight, John, weren't you? And of course, you didn't get any. That much is obvious. Are you always so irritable when you're interrupted?" He asked, taking a step closer.  
John's breath hitched in his throat at the closeness.  
"It's been a while, John, hasn't it? You're desperate for it, look at you – face flushed, pupils dilated, your pulse is simply _racing. _My, my, I suppose if I were... of the female gender, you'd be rather desperate to rip off my clothes right now?" He glanced down to the lump forming in the smaller man's jeans and cocked an eyebrow, the smirk having never left his face. Taking another step closer, he dropped his voice.  
"John Watson, are you aroused?" He said, his voice raised in mock disbelief. Slowly, he reached a hand forwards to casually graze the other man's crotch. John gasped and bucked slightly, the rough denim working wonders down there already. He glared at Sherlock and took a step back.  
"Don't," he whispered.  
Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together, the amusement leaving his face. "I thought that was what you wanted, John."  
John sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "Of course that's what I bloody want, Sherlock. I don't want to be a... _distraction_, for you, though. Something you can just have a go with, every time you get _bored._" He spat the last word out and looked up at Sherlock, fuming.  
After a few seconds, he took a deep breath. "I want to mean something," he said quietly, looking down at the floor.  
"I see," he whispered and pushed past Sherlock. "Good night, then," he called over his shoulder, making his way up the stairs.


End file.
